


Gold Rush

by WishaDream



Category: Kaylor - Fandom, Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Broken Up, Coney Island, Did I Mention Angst?, Dorothea - Freeform, Ex Lovers, F/F, Hurt feelings, Past Regrets, both too proud to say i'm sorry, evermore lyrics referenced, happiness and gold rush, happy ending? i don't know her, i was in one of those moods, karlie is a model, karlie is her muse, kaylor - Freeform, not gonna lie the first photo shoot was inspired by queen's gambit, of course, only read if you are in the mood for pain, or more accurately an unhappy ending, saying goodbye, taylor is art photographer, the end of a relationship, wanting more from a relationship than the other person can give you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29160897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishaDream/pseuds/WishaDream
Summary: Taylor has been a famous art photographer for years. At her latest show a past muse shows up unexpectedly and Taylor is taken back to memories of the feeling of red blushes and sinking into ocean blue eyes.
Relationships: Karlie Kloss/Taylor Swift
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Gold Rush

“I want more light on her and more shadows on him.”

Around the studio lighting shifted the reflectors as Taylor knelt down to look through the lens of her camera. She snapped a photo before motioning for the lighting tech to move the reflector closer, then held up her hand to signal for him to stop. She snapped another photo.

“I need more lighting at the back so the viewer can make it out.”

Though the forefront of the image was the most important, Taylor used the whole image to tell a story.

The story at the background of the photo was a man’s room, its masculine energy looming at the back of everything. Mahogany bookshelves were laden with the man’s accomplishments: trophies that shone as cold as their metal, heads and bones of various animals, large leather bound books written by male authors the world considered among the greats.

In front of all this sat a buffalo leather chair. The man of the house was seated there, slouched down as he rested his elbows on the arm of the chair. His face looked gaunt as he pulled on the end of a cigarette as his gaze focused on the side with a cold hard look shining in his eyes.

His eyes were fixed on a young woman in a see through negligee. She was leaned over the back of the large leather chair, reaching across it and him in order to reach the chess board that sat just in front. Her expression was one of wonder and excitement as she moved a Queen to the winning position.

Taylor smiled to herself as she took in the whole image. Set design had done a wonderful job of enacting her vision. There was a story in this image, not just the one at the forefront. It was a story about a man, who he thought he was, who he wanted to be, and how he thought the world perceived him. It was also the story of the girl and her place in the man’s life and how she weighed into the narrative of it.

“Alright, I’m getting ready to shoot. Raunald, I want you to pull on that cigarette again while continuing to glare at her. And Thomasina, just keep shining like that. Okay. Go.”

As soon as Raunald took a drag she started snapping. After that she had them do a take where he held the cigarette away from his lips like he’d been about to take a drag when he’d realized what the girl was about to do.

When she’d gotten all the takes she wanted she went to the models first as she thanked them for their hard work, “You all did wonderfully.”

She continued around the room, shaking the various staff member’s hands: lighting, set design, even the intern who had gotten everyone lunch when things had gone later than planned.

“None of this would be possible without you. I really am appreciative for your efforts in helping me bring this vision to life.”

While the set staff worked to clear everything out she headed back to her offices where she’d put the final touches on her images, picking out the ones that perfectly captured everything she wanted to show. Her art show was coming up in a few months and she still needed her center piece. After doing some lighting tweaks in Photoshop, making some details in the image stand out more, she sat back and smiled.

Yes. This was it. The image she would place at the center of her gallery.

___

The critics were out in droves for the unveiling of Taylor Swift’s newest showcase. At the center of it all hung the image titled “Pawn to Queen.”

“Oh, I love the double meaning of the title,” stated one viewer, “You can tell the man thought of her as just another play thing, but now he sees her as something more than an object to toy with and through winning the game the girl has seen that she can be more. That she is more. Taylor always does such a good job of conveying so much in one image.”

“And the movement of the image is spectacular,” stated a man with large black rimmed glasses, “One can almost imagine that if the image was taken a moment later she would have spilled over the back of the chair into the man’s lap in order to get to the board. She is not letting him get in her way a moment longer.”

As with all her center pieces, Taylor had included alternate images printed out at a smaller size. It had become a habit for her since her first big show. They still showed the same story, just with a slightly different take.

The main take she had picked as the center piece on was of the man pressing the heel of his hand into his mouth, the cigarette gripped between his fingers with the smoke curling into the air. The placement of the hand on its own gave one a sense of boredom from the man, but the harsh gleam in his eyes told the viewer that this was no longer just a game for him. There was a sense of menace in the image that the girl had not yet noticed.

“The girl is lost in her own triumph outside the man, completely unaware of the threat he poses,” stated another critique, “Just spectacular. Taylor really can tell a whole story in one moment.”

The alternate covers, as Taylor called them, displayed the final image she’d taken of the man with the cigarette poised just before his lips as he’d started to realize he was losing. Another had the girl with her feet lifted into the air behind her as she balanced on the back of the chair. That had been a hard image to take and in one instance Taylor had the model rest her hand on the man’s shoulder to keep her balance. In the end Taylor decided she didn’t like the take as she didn’t want to woman relying on the man for anything. The only thing she wanted him there for was to provide censure.

Smiling to herself as she was pleased with how everyone was taking the piece, she moved towards another group of onlookers. They were positioned in front of another piece she’d taken while in Africa.

This piece was titled “Guilt’s Burden.” It showcased two women struggling to carry the body of a man between them. The man was overly large and the image conveyed the women were struggling to hold him as the one holding his legs had let his body drop close to the ground.

This piece was one of her more “shocking” images as those in the crowd around dubbed it. The man’s white skin made him stand out like a beacon compared to the rest of the image which had a darker tone to it. The fact that he was covered in blood made him stand out all the more as one’s eyes were drawn to the bloody handprints covered his chest and face.

“You can see signs of them having tried to save him,” stated a woman, “There are hand prints on his chest, finger prints on his face where they probably touched him as they called out his name, begging him to stay with them.”

The image confirmed the woman’s theory as the women carrying the man were also covered in blood, their hands wet with the red liquid as they eyes filled with tears. Tears and fear as one looked back to the woods where torchlight shone through the trees.

“This image shows the consequences of man’s vile passions and gluttony and how they are most felt by women and minorities. They are the ones that end up having to clean up his mess and pay for his crimes against humanity as they take all the blame for his actions.”

Just then there was a clamor near the front of the art show. Taylor turned, standing on tiptoe in order to see what had the crowd so worked up. She did not have to look long as over the top of the crowd she saw *her* towering above the surrounding onlookers.

As soon as she saw her Taylor felt that familiar anticipating red flush go up her body.

“Is that Karlie Kloss?” whispered a nearby woman.

“What is she doing here?”

“Are her and Taylor back together?”

“No one has seen them together in ages.”

It was true, Taylor hadn’t seen Karlie in person in years, the other woman being too busy jetting around the world for her various fashion spreads.

Though years had passed, it felt like no time at all had gone by when Karlie’s eyes met Taylor’s.

The true queen had arrived and yet again Taylor felt like nothing more than her pawn. 

____

Before Taylor had her big break as a fine art photographer she had worked shooting models. It was simply a job to pay the bills till she could build up her portfolio enough to catch the interest of a patron who would allow her to tell her stories with one single image.

It was while working her day job that she’d met Karlie Kloss, an aspiring model. The two had clicked instantly and after one of their photo shoots she’d invited her back to her place to help her with a pet project.

The two worked together at night for several months before Taylor was inspired to create a photo art series she titled “Gold Rush.”

In first of the series of photos Karlie was painted gold and set into a “stone” wall where a poor miner found her. The series showed the decay of the relationship, of finding something precious, but eventually losing sight of the beauty that once drew you to a person.

In the photo series the man traded her away for a simple meal. From there the gold woman found herself owned by a large man who viewed her as nothing more than an object to trap behind glass. At that point she was no longer seen for her beauty, but for what she could get the people that owned her. Fame. Prestige. Power.

Eventually her worth was seen as nothing more than something to melt down as she was remade into an Oscar statue, the ultimate sign of vanity and objectification. Art no longer for art’s sake but only for the prestige it garnered.

It was this photo series that set off both their careers. After that they were invited to various parties where Taylor found herself calling out Karlie when she started to disagree with popular opinions in order to seem interesting.

“Your art friends do it. Why is it so wrong when I do it?”

“Because they actually believe what they are saying. You are only doing it to appeal to them.”

“And what is wrong with that? Everyone pretends to be something they are not.”

Not Taylor. It was her goal to show the truth of things. To look behind the mask that society put on and show it as it really was.

But Karlie was not one of her art pieces, though it always seemed like she was putting herself on display like one.

Taylor hated the way people looked at Karlie, like they would die just to feel her touch.

Everybody wanted her.

Wanted to know her.

To be her.

To know what it would be like to love her.

It was obvious Karlie knew this and savored every longing glance. Every covetous glare.

It was apparent from the way she walked, brushing past people to give them a taste, a pleased smile coming to her lips when they shuddered with desire.

Taylor hated it. Hated it more that the sight made her want to pull Karlie closer. To selfishly keep her to herself.

She did not like the way Karlie made others feel, but more than that she hated how Karlie made her feel.

Each time she saw the woman it was like she was moving in slow motion, appearing as if in double vision with rose petals floating around her. Being in her presence made Taylor feel like she was floating. But just as as soon as her feet started to leave the ground reality would bring her back again as she felt the bone crushing reality of who Karlie truly was.

  


  


“What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominos.”

Taylor heard this from another photographer as he held Karlie’s hair in his hand like Mother Gothel, pressing it to his nose and cheek like it was some freshly cut fruit.

He could only look at Karlie and imagine what she looked like naked, but Taylor knew.

She only had to close her eyes to picture the woman padding across the wooden floor of their shared apartment. Taylor’s Eagle’s t-shirt hung on the door behind her, the only thing she’d been wearing a moment before, as she left it on the door as a “signal that we don’t want to be disturbed.”

It wasn’t long after Karlie talked with the male photographer that she left Taylor to be someone else’s muse.

“It’s not enough anymore. I don’t want to be an art piece forever; I want to see my face lit up on the time’s square billboard. I want to be more than just your muse. I want to inspire millions.”

When she left her, Taylor blamed Karlie, painting her as the villain in her mind. As far as she was concerned, Karle was nothing more than a glory whore.

Why couldn’t her love and affection have been enough for Karlie? Why did she need the love of the world? Need things that Taylor could not give her.

As time passed, and Taylor’s wounds healed, she was able to step back from the trees to see the whole picture of her broken relationship. To see the parts where she was at fault.

She couldn’t make the pain go away by making Karlie the villain.

She’d had seven wonderful years with the woman; times when she’d pulled Karlie’s body to hers every night. But once she was gone, Taylor realized that she’d never been taught what to do when a good woman hurts you, and when you realize you’ve hurt her as well.

When Taylor had her big break she had received several honors and awards. At the ceremonies she’d thanked all the people that had helped her reach that point, all the people in her past who had given her support. It wasn’t till she got back to the table and saw the pain in Karlie’s eyes that she realized she’d forgotten to say her name.

Karlie had just wanted to be loved, to be seen, but Taylor had started to see her as nothing more than another piece of art. Without realizing it she’d stopped making the woman her centerfold.

Over and again she’d forgotten to think about Karlie’s needs. Her wants. Her desires. Like the miner in her Gold Rush series, she’d forgotten the true value of the gold she’d found in Karlie.

It was bitterness that had distanced Karlie from her. Taylor’s neglect that had caused Karlie to see out others for the attention she need. The attention she deserved. Not the attention she needed, but when you are neglected even obsession feels better than nothing.

It had been a slow falling away. At first Karlie had stayed, putting up with Taylor, being too polite to leave. She had tried to work with Taylor and other artists, but it hadn’t been enough for Taylor. Like Karlie was one of her art pieces, she thought the woman like something she’d copyrighted. And when Karlie had enough and left, Taylor had blamed her for her next few projects failing.

It was obvious from the way Karlie was able to sell dreams, makeup and magazines, that she was a boon to whoever used her. From her the world would buy anything. Without her, Taylor started to lose her touch as every project she put out failed.

Eventually Taylor reached the other side of the breakup as she started to rebuild her name without the woman. Her first successful series highlighted the dangers of tying one’s self-wroth in another. It was an obvious jab at her ex and all the critics noted the vitriol apparent in each of the photos. But if Karlie knew about the way Taylor felt towards her at that time, it did not stop her from sending Taylor flowers to congratulate her on the sold out show.

Taylor threw the flowers away before they had a chance to fade.

After that she used Karlie as a different kind of muse, turning her life into folklore. Eventually she realized she could not dream about her anymore.

After two more years of subpar work, Taylor found her footing as she started a new series that the critiques dubbed “revolutionary.” “Exciting.” “A breath of fresh air in a medium that has for a time been taken over by the shallow eye of fashion.”

But reminders of what she’d lost remained around her. She still saw flashes of Karlie’s face on billboards or in magazines. In those moments she wondered if Karlie ever stopped and thought about her. She had new friends now. New people to love. And Taylor only had well wishes for her. If Karlie had wanted, it was never too late for her to come back to Taylor’s side. If she’d ever got tired of being known for who she knew she’d always have Taylor.

This thought came to Taylor as she saw the woman standing at her art show. The first time in years. Taylor had been waiting for her to come back to her, now she realized she should have been the one to make the first step.

Seeing her smiling face, Taylor wondered if she was the same soul she had known.

Had she ever really known her?

As the question rang in her mind she couldn’t help but move closer

____

Karlie’s eyes still gleamed, twinkled like sinking ships in water, so inviting, Taylor almost jumped in.

She had once, a long time ago, but this time she stopped just at the shoreline. Stopped just before the tall blonde.

“Karlie, it’s been a long time.”

Karlie leaned down as they performed a kiss on each other’s cheeks, a show of fake niceties for the on looking crowd.

When she pulled back Karlie was smiling like no time at all had passed.

“What brings you here?”

“I had promised to attend every show you did in New York.”

Taylor nodded, recalling the promise, “You always did keep your promises.”

It had been that knowledge that had kept her from doing any showcases in the city. Even after she’d realized her part in the shattering of the relationship she had not been ready to see the woman again.

Now that she was standing in front of her she realized she still was not ready.

“Would you come back to the studio with me after this? For old time’s sake.”

Did Karlie hear the break in her voice? The need.

She seemed to as she gave Taylor the softest smile, as soft as a spring breeze.

After the show, Karlie went with her back to the studio. It was the same place they had purchased together right after their careers had taken off.

“You always were sentimental,” stated Karlie. She wore an amused smile as she picked up the Eagle’s t-shirt Taylor now used to clean up messes. Like the mess that her life had been after Karlie had left.

“Where do you want me?”

Taylor pointed to the center spot of the room. Without having to ask her, Karlie started to undress before taking a seat on a stool.

Taylor’s face was hot as she held out a sheet to Karlie, “Hold this over your front.”

Once she had it positioned, Taylor had her sit with her back to the camera as she looked back at it over her shoulder.

‘No. None of that demure fashion magazine stuff.”

Karlie straightened her spine as she gave the camera a more imposing expression.

“Yes,” she took a photo,” this isn’t about submission. It’s about dominance.”

Frowning, she set the camera aside as she headed off into a back room. She came back a moment later with a cart full of paints. Pouring some paint into a trey she put her hand into it as she proceeded to press different colored handprints onto Karlie’s skin.

The woman shivered under her touch. She knew it was because of the cold of the paint, but let herself imagine for a moment that it was something else. Longing. The feeling of wishing you’d never let something go.

Taylor position the handprints on areas where men would touch Karlie: the small of her back, her shoulder, her face, her neck. Places not just of passion and desire, but of dominance and control.

As she headed back to check her work through the camera lens Karlie asked, “Why did we split up?”

Taylor took a test image then moved to set up the lighting.

“We were both too selfish to let the other have the life they wanted.”

As Taylor came close to adjust the sheet on Karlie the woman let it drop away.

Taylor again felt that unwelcome rose blush as she averted her gaze. Fingers lightly touched her hand as Karlie pulled at her, signaling her desire for Taylor to look at her.

“Is that still the case?”

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she felt that familiar throb at the base of her stomach. Desire. Longing. Feelings she had only ever poured into her work after Karlie had left. But now…

In the time it took for an image to be snapped Karlie’s arms were wrapped around her neck as her body pressed into Taylor’s. As their lips pressed together it felt to her like they’d never parted.

The gold and her miner together again.

___

The headlines the next morning reported on the two having been seen together at the party before leaving together. People speculated about them getting back together, their theories seemingly supported by images of Karlie the next morning with a hicky on her neck.

But this wasn’t a return to things, but a long overdue goodbye.

Taylor made this decision when she saw the triumphant smile on Karlie’s face as she looked to be showing off the mark with her low cut blouse, using it to get others speculating and misunderstanding about the two’s relationship.

And like times in the past Taylor’s face was splashed up on the news front page as her art show became nothing more than a byline as everyone focused on the drama that was her love life.

One day she would learn her lesson and stop letting the woman back into her life.

One day she would look into those eyes, so inviting, and she wouldn’t jump in.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't judge Karlie too harshly, though Taylor may have reached the edge of the woods, Karlie is still in the mud, stumbling over tree roots as she calls out Taylor's name in anger, frustration and pain.
> 
> Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts...but when the times comes I hope you'll give them a chance.


End file.
